


Day 8: The Last Table

by ofplanet_earth



Series: 30 days of Barduil [8]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Bard doesn't care, Bard has his eye on the cute waiter, M/M, Smitten Bard, Thranduil is working, Thranduil with a man bun, waiter!Thranduil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofplanet_earth/pseuds/ofplanet_earth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bard wants to share a drink with the cute blond waiter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 8: The Last Table

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to week two!  
> Anonymous requested a waiter!Thranduil AU in which Bard does lots of eye flirting throughout the night, only to ask him for a dance once the restaurant has emptied.  
> I couldn't picture dancing except in a night club, so here we go.
> 
> this, friends, is the part of the month where the updates might become a little more sporadic. I've been on vacation this past week (what a lovely week it's been), but I start work again tonight. there will be a couple days each week when I won't be able to update.
> 
> but I'm so thrilled by the responses I've had to these stories!! and the requests keep piling up! thank you so much for reading, and for leaving comments and kudos. thank you for the support in general. you guys are great!! ❤️❤️❤️

Thranduil sighed as he flipped a fresh serviette over his shoulder. What a waste of his time this night had turned out to be. He’d come as a favour to Haldir— one of his servers had called out for his shift and he worried his staff wouldn’t be able to handle the Saturday night crowd without an extra hand. 

Haldir was a friend, and he’d helped him out enough with Legolas over the years. Besides. He’d dreaded what would happen if Thranduil declined and it turned out that Haldir really had needed his help. He might never hear the end of the complaints of how busy he was and how overworked they’d all been. So he’d agreed. But the crowd was sparse; the tables only half-filled at their busiest hour and the number of patrons had only dwindled since. 

It was past eight o’clock, the sun had long since set and everyone with even a lick of sense was at home, swaddled in pyjamas and warm socks. The doors flew open as table three bundled themselves in their coats and scarves and let the frigid February breeze rush inside. Thranduil sighed. They’d left a shitty tip— as had all the other patrons that night. Surely if these people could afford Haldir’s overpriced salmon and steak they could afford to leave a decent gratuity. He slipped the bills and coins into his apron and began clearing the remnants of their dinner and their many _many_ drinks. 

At least, Thranduil thought, there were only three tables left. The night was almost over and then he could go home.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the door flew open, the harsh wind biting through his shirt and waistcoat with little effort. Loud and boisterous laughter filled the restaurant and Thranduil was quickly developing a headache. He finished clearing the empty table and marched to table five, where this new party had been seated. 

“Evening, gentlemen.” He forced his brightest smile. “Can I start you all off with a drink?” 

There were muttered requests of water, gin and tonic, and a scotch. Thranduil scribbled the drinks down on his check pad and turned his attention to the last man at the table. “And you sir?” 

He was met with a smile that might have been polite, had it not also been accompanied by a pair of hazel eyes that dragged shamelessly from Thranduil’s shoes, up his legs, over his apron and waistcoat and to the messy bun he’d pulled his hair into. 

“What’s your recommendation for red wine?” The man’s drink menu sat on his plate, unopened and ignored.

Thranduil brushed aside the instinct to groan and roll his eyes, deciding to return the favour and study the man in return. He was Thranduil’s age, perhaps a bit older. His dark hair fell around his shoulders, sparsely streaked with premature grey and tied up away from his eyes. His smile widened and revealed dimples in his cheeks. He wore jeans, though the effect was decidedly more casual than sloppy, as it might have been on another man. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone and they gave Thranduil a peak of tanned skin and defined muscles. He found it surprisingly difficult to draw his eyes away.

The man smirked as Thranduil composed himself. He’d asked about wine, hadn’t he? “The Cabernet is good,” Thranduil stuttered. “But if you’re asking my opinion, I’d recommend the Malbec.” 

“Perfect.” The man was still smiling and Thranduil could feel the heat of his eyes on him as he collected the drinks menus from the table. 

Haldir was in the kitchen when Thranduil went to the computer to start the bill for table five. “I’m sorry it’s been dead tonight,” he said. “You can leave if you want. I’ll cover the rest of the tables until closing.”

Thranduil considered it. All night he’d wanted nothing more than to go home, pick Legolas up from Tauriel’s and cuddle up in bed with a glass of wine and a good book. But now there was this man at table five and he was… intriguing. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He finished entering the drink orders and offered Haldir a reassuring smile. 

“If you’re sure,” Haldir said, but Thranduil had already left the kitchen, making his way to the bar. 

“A scotch, a gin and tonic, water, and a glass of the Alta Vista please, Feren.” The bartender worked quietly and pulled a tray from beneath the bar. Soft jazz poured through hidden speakers, bathing the dining room in the sounds piano and saxophone as Thranduil leaned against the bar. He looked out over the restaurant, only to find the warm hazel eyes of the man from table five locked onto his. The rest of his friends were laughing and carrying on, but he only sat there, angled slightly towards the bar, staring. 

He stared as Thranduil carried the tray of drinks to their table. He stared as Thranduil placed the drinks on the table, and he stared as Thranduil took down dinner orders. “What will you have?” 

“I’ll have the steak. Medium rare with green beans.” Thranduil scribbled on his check pad, though he needed no help remembering the man’s order.

“Good choice. It’ll go well with the wine.” 

“I thought it might.” The man smirked. Thranduil mirrored his expression and turned toward the kitchen. Haldir approached him at the computer again. 

“Now I see why you don’t mind staying.” 

Thranduil paused, frowned, and turned to his friend. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“That guy comes in here sometimes with his friends. I’ve waited his table before. He’s never anything but polite, if a little distracted.”

“And your point is…” 

“That he clearly likes you. And clearly he’s not alone, Mister _It’s alright. I don’t mind_.” Haldir mocked. Thranduil glared. “His name is Bard.” 

“Why would you tell me that?” 

“In case you were curious.” Thranduil had been curious, but Haldir definitely did not need to know that. 

Thranduil turned to his friend, levelled him with a cold stare and said, “If you ever expect me to do you a favour, whether it be waiting tables or babysitting or anything of the sort ever again, you will wipe that smirk off your face and never breathe a word of this again.” 

“Okay,” Haldir held his hands up and began backing away slowly. “I get it. Not another word.” Thranduil glared at his friend as he made an exaggerated lip- zipping motion and turned away. He sighed and returned to the computer. 

He tended to his other patrons while table five’s food was prepared, all the while stealing glances across the dining room. Each time he was met with the dark honey and sage of the man’s— of Bard’s— eyes. Each time, that was, until he wasn’t. 

He’d just delivered extra sour cream to the needy woman at table seven. He turned, his eyes flicking automatically across the restaurant, only to find Bard’s attention had been pulled towards his friends, their boisterous laughter rising up over the din of the dining room. 

Thranduil couldn’t say why, but he found himself approaching Bard’s table. “Your food will be out in just a minute,” he said. “Do you need anything?” 

“Yeah, Bard needs a—“ The man across from Bard cut off with a sharp hiss and a pained groan. 

“Another round of drinks, please. But a water instead of the gin and tonic.” Bard’s eyes were still bright with laughter when he turned to Thranduil again. “Percy’s had enough to drink.” 

“Alright,” Thranduil smiled and turned away, though he’d rather hear what Percy had been about to say before he’d been silenced by what Thranduil could only guess was a sound kick to his shin. But he brought them their food and their drinks and received a toast from Percy as he drank his water. 

Soon it was near closing and all of Thranduil’s tables had emptied, save for table five. He couldn’t find it in himself to care though, when he stopped by to inform them it was last call. 

“Could I trouble you for another glass of wine?” Bard asked. He’d barely touched his second and there was something wicked sparking in his eyes, but Thranduil simply smiled and brought it to him when he dropped off the check.

He helped Haldir with the cleanup after that, only emerging from the kitchen when he heard the front door open and close, singling the exit of table five. The restaurant was silent in the wake of the laughter and conversation of patrons, but Thranduil didn’t mind. He’d always preferred the quiet. 

He was surprised to find that table five wasn’t empty. Bard had stayed behind, contentedly sipping his wine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were still here. Do you need something?” 

Bard smirked and flicked his eyes from Thranduil’s eyes to his lips and then lower before meeting his stare again. “Would it be forward of me to say that I’ve been wanting to catch you alone all evening?” 

“Forward? Absolutely.” Thranduil laughed. 

“Well. I suppose that’s just something I’ll have to live with, then. Can I ask your name?” 

“You’ve been waiting all night to ask my name?” Bard smiled, the blush blooming on his cheeks made brighter from the wine. “I’m wearing another man’s uniform, there’s a margarita stain on my sleeve, my hair is a mess and you still want to ask my name?” 

“Aye.” 

“My name’s Thranduil,” He sighed and swiped a stray lock of hair behind his ear. 

“Thranduil. I have another question.” 

Thranduil laughed. “What’s that?” 

“I seem to have overshot my own limits tonight and I’ve got this extra glass of wine. Would you care to join me?” 

“Well I…” Just then Thranduil caught sight of Haldir, standing in the doorway to the kitchen and showing off his best _I told you so_ smile. Oh, fuck it. What did he care what Haldir thought, anyway? It wasn’t as if he needed to worry about losing his job.

**Author's Note:**

> it's not too late to request a fic! [submit a prompt](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/ask) and I'll add it to the list!  
> I like to tag [inspiration](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/tagged/30-days-of-barduil) for the stories I write.  
> you can keep track of my word count on [my WriMo novel page](http://nanowrimo.org/participants/ofplanet-earth/novels/30-days-of-barduil) or [my tumblr](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/tagged/nanowrimo).


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